CHAPTER XIX
Edith was radiant at the news.
"I do hope they're not going to grudge themselves a good long wedding trip!" she exclaimed.
"They're going abroad," said Roger.
"Oh, splendid! And the wedding! Church or home?"
"Home," said Roger blissfully, "and short and simple, not a frill. Just the family."
"Oh, that's so nice," sighed Edith. "I was afraid she'd want to drag in her school."
"School will be out by then," he said.
"Well, I hope it stays out—for the remainder of her days. She can't do both, and she'll soon see. Wait till she has a child of her own."
"Well, she wants one bad enough."
"Yes, but can she?" Edith asked, with the engrossed expression which came on her pretty florid face whenever she neared such a topic. She spoke with evident awkwardness. "That's the trouble. Is it too late? Deborah's thirty-one, you know, and she has lived her life so hard. The sooner she gives up her school the better for her chances."
The face of her father clouded.
"Look here," he said uneasily, "I wouldn't go talking to her—quite along those lines, my dear."
"I'm not such an idiot," she replied. "She thinks me homely enough as it is. And she's not altogether wrong. Bruce and I were talking it over last night. We want to be closer, after this, to Deborah and Allan. Bruce says it will do us all good, and for once I think he's right. I have given too much time to my children, and Bruce to his
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